


Pulp

by almost_certain



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Canon Compliant, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, First Time, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Literally just training and sex, Loss of Virginity, Maybe - Freeform, Mild Smut, Not Beta Read, Porn With Plot, Shameless Smut, Tokyo Ghoul: re, Training, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence, ayahina, mentions of - Freeform, platonic touken, pre auction raid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-03 11:23:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4099219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almost_certain/pseuds/almost_certain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They didn't always get along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pulp

**Author's Note:**

> So... I don't know what I'm doing with my life, here's some ayahina smut. Takes place between tg and tg:re and... Honestly I don't know what else to tell you. 
> 
> Canon compliant until the point it isn't i guess. Which is in Hhe future, so right now, enjoy.
> 
> (And they're living in a big Aogiri house, alright?)

He watched with growing irritation as she pushed herself up on to her knees, her face a tapestry of bruises, but her mouth drawn in to a determined line.

'Hinami,' he warned this time, since she obviously couldn't read him as well as he thought. 'I think you've had enough.'

Realistically, he should have told her a few rounds ago, when she was still standing and his blows were measured, but any regret - pity, it all stems from pity - was quickly lost when she swayed to her feet. It wasn't his fault she didn't yield when he stopped holding back. 

He could tell by the tightening of every muscle in her left arm that she was about to move. He broke the right with the last attack in the hope she'd cry and call an end to the days training so at any rate, her attacks were limited. The pop was still echoing in his brain, so fresh.

He intercepted her as she lunged, spinning her and gripping a handful of soft brown hair. Her face hit the concrete with a sickening smack, and the blood sprayed high, painting him from his shoulder to the opposite hip. For a moment he thought he'd killed her, but her fingers wound around his calf and he relaxed.

'I said,' he grunted against her sweat damp hair, fine brown hair that has no business under his fingertips, 'you've had enough.'  

She let a muffled cry soak in to the crimson concrete. He smiled.

His training was brutal, he had warned her as much, but if he was honest... He couldn't help it, losing his temper. Everything about her pissed him off. She was all gangly limbs, squeaked apologies and those huge deer-in-headlight eyes. She walked around in a dreamy little haze, spouting pretty words, asking about his shitty sister or the bastard who had broken half his bones. Some days it was all too easy to get carried away.

'Oi, Ayato-kun.' Eto drawled from somewhere behind, and his hand unwound from her locks. 'What have you done to Hina-chan?' 

He looked down at his handiwork and shrugged a shoulder. 'You told me to train her.'

'Is this training her?' She made a show of inspecting her nails even if they were covered by the bandages.

'You told me to train her as I would anyone else.' He did his best to look indifferent. 'She'll be worse off if I go soft on her when the doves won't.' 

Eto only hummed thoughtfully. 'Tatara wants you and Naki. Training's over for today.'

He nodded and didn't look down at her as he turned to leave. If he was lucky her training might be passed along to someone else, but he never had been lucky and neither, he guessed, had she.

* * *

In the mirror her face was a blur of red and purple, everything swollen and tender to the touch. Behind her the soft flow of water filled the room with a gentle song and she was grateful, because without it she could hear her bones creaking as they healed, the tiny fractures in her skull knitting themselves back together. He really did a number on her, even with a ghoul's healing she was in agony. 

'No you're just weak.' She sighed, and the injuries had given her a temporary lisp as a cherry on top.

With trembling fingers she peeled away her blood stained yellow shirt, letting it fall to the floor so the full extent of her injuries was revealed. It was eery, the way the band of blue-black circles streched evenly around her middle, as if she'd been hugged just below the breasts and squeezeed until she resembled an hour glass. Her ribs ached as they healed beneath her palm, but the bruising woud remain for a day or two.

If she thought about it long enough she hated him. She'd seen Ayato's handiwork, the sad way Touka-chan's eyes would glaze over when they spoke about siblings, the condition she'd been in when he was finished with her, when Kaneki had rescued her from her own brother. If he could do that to her, it was a wonder Hinami could still walk at all. 

She lowered herself in to the water as slowly as her trembling limbs would allow, but even the tepid water burned at her bruises and cuts, making her gasp and the water slosh over the side of the tub. 

When she was done she clothed herself in light cotton pyjamas, a gift from Eto to make her feel more at home. In the mirror she looked so strange, still swollen and bruised but wrapped up like a doll. She looked like the victim, a poster child for weakness. It made her want to pull out the now fluffy clean brown locks where they hung around her head. Next time she would try harder, and if it killed her she would mark his hatred filled face.

He didn't knock before throwing the door open, glowering at her where she stood at the mirror. He tossed the bag of meat at her and she caught it awkwardly between her elbow and breasts. She wondered if he would say something, his eyebrows had narrowed when he'd seen her standing there, gaping at her own reflection, but he only scoffed and turned on his heel, slamming the door behind him. 

Her cheeks burnt. He had just burst in to her only sanctuary, and she'd let him. Worse still he'd caught her cataloguing her wounds, and she knew that would have fed his ego. She imagined him walking in a few moments earlier, catching her naked, eyes raking over every one of his bruises, and her blood ran cold. 

Outside, though she'd never know, he let his head smack back against the drywall of the hallway. His hand covered his mouth as the urge to vomit clawed its way up from the pit of his stomach. He shook the feeling loose and bit down hard on his tongue. He had nothing to feel guilty about, he reminded himself. He'd have done that to anyone.

* * *

'Try and block it this time.' He repeated as he watched her stagger about, his last blow to her head having stunned her. 'Arms up.'

He couldn't help a smile as she raised her arms, but something in him snapped. At the last minute he lowered his punch, sending it under her gaurd straight in to her gut. She grabbed at his shoulders, letting out a high cry against his ear and fist still at her stomach he pulled her closer, lips twitching in to a devious smile.

'Sorry, but you should probably stop trusting me.' He stepped back and she fell at his feet, her head hanging forward until it bumped his shin. 

She wheezed, and again he felt that vague sick feeling travel up his windpipe, but he pushed it to the back of his head. Others would be harder on her, he told himself. 

'We done?' 

With a growl she fought to her feet, swaying on them as she fixed her eyes on him. Even when his hand wrapped around her throat she kept her gaze steady.

He held her there for a few moments, applying a gently pressure with his fingertips, enough that she'd have a necklace of ruby bruises for a while but nothing left by bedtime. Her hands gripped at his forearms. 'We done?' He hissed.

Her hands fell away and he let her drop until she slumped down to the concrete with a huge gasp.  

'Do you hate me?' He asked as he swung his hoodie on. He didn't look at her but he could tell her eyes were still burning in to his back. 

He didn't expect an answer, so when she croaked 'Shouldn't I?' He spun around, teeth bared. 

Again, she didn't flinch. 

'Hating me is fine, but it won't make you any better.'

She nodded.

'Get up.'

She didn't move.

He zipped up his jacket, pulling the hood up over his dark hair. 'Sitting on the floor won't make you any better either.' He left her sitting there anyway and swept out towards the more populated part of town where tonight's meal was probably still making plans for tomorrow. 

He hunted, he ate the way he always had, at the scene with his hands bloody, and then he took some meat for his new burden. Why, he wondered as he stripped away the stomach flab and dropped it in to his bag, had they given the stupid bitch to him. She was a walking talking pet peeve, everything that was wrong with their species. She sat there talking books with Eto, teaching Naki useless pretty words, and all she had every spared for him were awkward glances and cheap apologies. His sister's fingerprints were all over her. 

To make matters worse he couldn't stop thinking of her. At the start it was always veiled under a smug satisfaction, after all he'd been the one to pluck her from the streets, deliver her to her saviour while her comfortable little home burnt to the ground. More and more it was the consuming thoughts of her downtrodden face, of the way sadness seemed to dominate her delicate features. 

Ayato didn't knock, but this time he made his presence known with a loud thump of his boots against the hallway floor. Even a human should have heard him, he thought as he flung open her door. She sat with her back to him, turning her head to give him a view of her profile. 

'Food.' He held it out, knowing full well that he could just have left it on the side table and also that he wouldn't leave until she had been forced to take it from his hand. 'Fresh too, not that dried up days old shit you're used to.'

She turned back to the wall. 

'You fucking deaf? Food.' 

'N...' She closed her eyes. 'Please leave.'

He blinked. He hadn't been prepared for it straight away. In fact he'd expected her to cave instantly. He crossed the room in five quick strides, boots falling heavy on the floorboards, and took her chin between his thumb and fingers, tilting her face towards the light. Her eyes were glossy and two twin silver tear tracks traced down to curl under her jaw but somehow she didn't look weak.

His windpipe...

His thumb ran across her jaw as he looked down, his expression oddly blank. The reading lamp on the bedside table cast a gold light over the wisps of her hair and deep dark shadows under here eyes and mouth. He didn't want to look.

'Please. If you've come to gloat or pick a fight...'

'I haven't.' He swallowed the lump in his throat, stilling the movement of his thumb.

Hinami closed her eyes, free tears coursing down the ready made trails, catching on his fingertips. Her sob sent her forward, and rather than pull away he stayed rooted in place, even as her head pressed against his chest. Their arms fell down to their sides, and if she had looked she'd have seen a look of pure confusion replacing the usual arrogance he wore so well, but she didn't look, she only cried against him. 

He let her. 

When she had stopped he hadn't moved her, and instead the ambient silence had swallowed them until she realised the ticking of a clock she thought she heard was actually the steady thu-thump of his heart against her forehead, and he was standing still as a statue above her, hands limp at his side. 'Sorry!' She yelped as she snatched her head back, eyes fixing on his now creased T-shirt. 

He shrugged but didn't speak. 

'I'm...'

'This isn't home?' He asked, and his voice was so soft she just had to look at his face. He turned his head to the side, feigning nonchalance. 'Don't worry about it.' He put the meat down on the bedside table before turning to leave, footsteps softer than they had been on his approach.

When she struck him across the face in training the next day neither could work out why he'd let her.

* * *

'Kill him.' Ayato leant against her on the park bench, his eyes following a group of students as they said their goodbyes. The target in question had taken a good look at Hinami as they had passed, and his eyes still strayed across to her, even as she tightened her scarf around her mouth and shifted closer to Ayato. 'He thinks you want to fuck him.'

She shifted, her elbow rubbing against his. In her thick tan coat she looked tiny. 

'He's at least eighteen and he wants to fuck you. How disgusting. Kill him.'

'...Ayato...'

'Kill him or we don't eat tonight, and tomorrow I'll be in a bad mood for training.' 

She sighed, a little cloud forming in front of her face. 'I've never done it before.'

'No shit.' He growled, turning his attention to a group of school girls, who apparently only felt the cold on their upper halves. 

She followed his gaze and sat up a little straighter. 'They're too young.'

'I wasn't planning on eating them.' He smirked, but all the same he looked around for someone older, someone he could imagine Hinami agreeing to. A family, father, mother, daughter swaddled in a red winter coat, skipped past them. 'Let's try elsewhere.' He suggested, and she stood up straight away.

He ended up breaking the neck of some vagrant while she stood guard, making every squelch or snap sound louder just to punish her. 

'Gonna just stand there?' He cocked an eyebrow as he tore his first chunk free. 

Cautiously she knelt over the body, hand resting on the sternum. Her fingers punctured the skin, beads of red spilling about them. 'You kill people like that?' She whispered.

'Like what?' He huffed, his breaths forming little clouds that rose in the cold air. 

She met his eyes only to look straight back down at her hand. 'You... You break their necks?' 

'Quieter.' He turned back to the task at hand, wrenching free a hand. 

'I just thought...' She shook her head and tore herself a strip of flesh. 

He grunted. 'I just don't want to get caught.'

That made sense, she had to admit, as she watched him tear away food as if the thing under his hands had never been living. 'Then,' she took a steadying breath. 'You enjoy it?'

His hand faltered and he blinked down at it, eyebrows knitting together to sharpen his features. 

She didn't know so much had hinged on his answer until he hadn't given one. Her mind raced with the possbilties, the idea that he was softer than he seemed, that at his centre he was't the cold monster he tried too hard to be. And she'd have been lying if she'd said the little glimpses, the little sighs and head shakes that seemed lifted from the kirishima mold, didn't knock the breath right out of her lungs.

As if he had read her mind, his features soured. 'Do you really think I'd say no? That deep down I'm just like you?' With a sickening crunch he broke off the man's arm at the elbow.

She let herself deflate. 'I don't think you enjoy it.'

'What would you fucking know?' He wiped the blood from his hands on to his jeans. 'I like it. There's nothing wrong with liking it.'

'I didn't say there was.' She replied sharply, but she knew she'd say no more on the matter. She might have said too much already. 

'Don't...' He grit his teeth and swore under his breath before standing and sweeping off down the alleyway. Hinami stooped to take the bag, pausing to drag her fingertips across the corpse's eyelids before following him in to the darkness. 

* * *

She was fifteen and it felt like a pipe dream, her sixteenth birthday so close she could touch it and somehow she was still alive. Not just alive, thriving. She held the blouse against her and peered through her fringe at her strange reflection. She's filling out, an ordinary girl might be pleased with the growth of her chest or the broadening of hips, especially when puberty took its sweet time like it had with her, but somehow it made her angry.

She found herself wishing for her mother more and more, waking up with her face on the back of her eyelids, her voice at the back of her mind telling her that she was proud, 'you're becoming a woman.' 

But she wouldn't be proud, would she? If she could see her now, Hinami thought, scrapping with Ayato until they were both pulpy messes, then chewing on that night's hunt with no remorse... Helping Aogiri kill and maim, her ears and nose a valuable weapon. Her parents might not be so proud after all. 

Him though, he was proud. Not like a parent would be, nor a teacher, but she could see the way his mouth hinted a smile when she successfully blocked, or when she relayed information to him. When she ate she'd catch his eye sometimes, and the look was too similar to Touka's, she could almost believe he cared. 

Then he'd say something in his sharp drawl, or break one of her bones just to reaffirm that he was stronger. Soon they'd begin training with their kagunes and perhaps she would have the edge, but physically for the moment he was the clear victor. 

She scowled at her reflection. Soon she would need a haircut but for now she could sweep if to the side, securing it with an old flower clip. If she were normal, or even if her parents simply still lived, she would have been a school girl. Soon her winter term would be over and she would spend Christmas dreaming about a boy in her class or perhaps they would go ice skating on Christmas Eve. She'd have loved school, she knew, and her parents would have loved to see her graduate. 

' _Why is it his sister went to school and he didn't_?' She asked Takasuki Ken one day as they sat watching ducks fight over the seeds they had thrown. 

The author had let out a long sigh and stretched her arms out in front of her. ' _You'd be better off asking him Hinami-chan. Does Ayato-kun seem like the school boy type to you?'_

If she was honest she could imagine him at the back of the classroom, with his nose to the window and feet on the desk. In between classes he might steal her lunch money. 

She ran a hand through her hair, ruffling it. Maybe he could teach her to steal lunch money too. They could end up in Summer school, she could tutor him in literature, and he could teach her how to properly pick a pocket. An unexpected romance perhaps?

Her reflection laughed at her. They weren't those characters, and if she felt anything for him it was more akin to dependence than love. Worse than that, if he felt anything for her it was because she was weaker than him, because he could easily keep her in line, and that wasn't the sort of relationship she had dreamt about as a young girl.

'I think it's Stockholm syndrome.' Her reflection nodded. 'Just try not to like him and you'll be fine.'

* * *

Of course she had to do it eventually. For some reason he had been distracted while they trained, his reactions slower than usual, and she had finally landed a substantial blow with her kagune, piercing his side. 

His eyes met hers just before he dropped to his knees, hands trying to keep in the blood. 'Fuck.' He growled, raising his black and red eyes to look at her. 'You ruined my shirt, shitty Hinami.'

She took a few steps forward on her shaking legs. 'Ayato-kun...' When he only snarled at her she huffed, 'You've ruined plenty of my clothes.'  At least he wore black. He had no idea how hard it was getting blood out of yelllow. 

'What do you care, it's not like you buy them.' 

She had to look twice to read the smile, and even then it took her a few seconds to register that he was, in fact, teasing her. 

'Well give me a day off so I can go shopping.' She stooped, and emboldened by his smirk she took his hand by the wrist so she could inspect the wound, ignoring the proximity of his face as he watched her. 'I...' The colour drained from her face.

'Do you feel guilty?' He smirked wider. 'After everthing I've done to you, you feel guilty?'

Quite suddenly he seized her hand by the wrist and pulled it against the wound, forcing her fingertips just inside. 'No no no! Don't pull away.' He tightened his grip as she tried to pull bacwards. 'You did it, you're going to do it again. Get used to it.' His   eyes buldged as she stopped fighting and he hand slipped in to his stomach. 

'Ayato?' She trembled, staring at his eyes for fear of seeing his blood flowing around her wrist. He blinked and his eyes were suddenly the deep dark blue she had somehow grown fond of, if a little dazed. A trickle of blood rolled from the corner of his mouth.

His fingers slipped from her wrist. 'Good girl.' He let his head fall backwards. 'You need to get used to it.'

Around her hand his blood was scorching, but the flow had stopped for the moment. 'You're so warm.' She murmured.

'I only look cold blooded.' He laughed, and something about it made her wish they were in a stupid novel, and he was teaching her to steal lunch money. 'Inside we're warm, we're soft, we're as vulnerable as humans.

She flexed her finger and he sucked in a breath, swaying forward.  

'Are you alright?' She was dangerously close to crying, she could feel the prickle in her eyes. 

'Tch.' He raised his chin and took her by the wrist again, this time pulling her hand free of his stomach wth a gush of deep red almost black blood. 

'SHIT!' She gasped as the dark liquid coated her knees. 'Ayato...'

He barked a laugh, 'Human's can't do this though.' He put his hand on either side of the tear in his T-shirt and grinned. 

Her heart thundered in her chest as she watched his pale skin knit itself back together, still smeared with the congealed blood. The smell which had been a secondary concern was suddenly overwhelming and she found herself wretching. 

'Oi, stop that.'

Tears slipped from her closed eyes.

'Idiot, do you think the next dove you fight will cry over you like that?'

His blood was all over her hands, she couldn't wipe her eyes. 'Stop it!' She sobbed.

'Stop what? Look, you have to get used to this. If you can't kill what use are you...'

'Just stop!' She leapt up to her feet and made for the door that linked their makeshift training yard to a tunnel and then the outside world. His arms tightened around her elbows and she hit the wall with her back, hard. 

'Stop looking at me like that.' He spat, his face looming over hers, so close she could feel the tip of his nose on her. His hair tickled her cheek, his hips pressed against hers and her body was betraying her, shaking in a way she could not control. The twist at the bottom of her gut was too close to excitement, and it made her cheeks burn. 

'Like what?' She spat back, still crying but voice steady. 

'Like I'm your fucking friend.' He took a deep breath, hands drifting down her arms to her wrists, then away all together. 'As if I'd need you to care about me.'

'I can't help that.' She sniffed. 

He clicked his tongue, and she didn't miss the way his eyes lingered on her lips. 

'Get off me.' She whispered, and when he mover closer, his lips almost touching hers, she turned her head. 'How are you so diffferent?' 

'Fuck it.' His fist met with the wall just beside her head. 'I don't get you.' He swept his hair back over his head, ignoring the transfer of blood to his indigo locks. 'If you want her go back. I'm not going to fawn over you like my shitty Aneki. For fuck sake, you just did it, you won, if I'd been a dove you would have killed me, and now you're what, you're crying?' 

She shoved him, her hands aching where they banged against the hard mass of his chest. 'Maybe you enjoy it. Maybe you enjoy hurting me but I...' She growled. 'I'm nothing like you!' For once she managed to storm away and he didn't try and stop her.

* * *

She watched him fight from a ledge, her hands tight fists at her sides. He kicked one dove clean across the courtyard, and she felt her jaw strain as she tensed. 'He's been holding back.' She told Naki who was kneelling beside her, watching with wide eyes. 

'Not really.' Naki tilts his head to watch Rabbit take down the final two agents. 'But no point going all out on these whelps.'

Her teeth ground together. He was holding back now? How weak had she been?'

He strode over to them, smile smug as she took in his casual stance, the fact he hadn't broken a sweat. 'Did you think I was just a pretty face?' He shook his hair about his head. 'Naki, if you could finish up, I'll take this back.' He held up the prize, a cruumpled up file. 

The next day at training was excruciating. Every time her fist connected she felt her ears glow red, her own muscles burning as she tried that much hader to hit him. All the same he was dodging her with ease, though he had stopped any offensive action in favour of dancing around her. 

She growled, lunging to strike at his shoulder, but in her haste she caught her toe on a crack on the concrete and found herself with his arms looped around her waist, his body pressed against her back. 

'Slow down.' His voice was stange, she'd say breathless if she didn't know better. His hand splayed out over her stomach and she froze, her own arms hanging limply at her sides. 'You were doing so well.' 

Husky. If she didn't know better she would say his voice was husky. Did she think his voice was husky?

He inhaled, and she fell forward, landing with a thunk on her knees. 

He chuckled as he circled her, running a hand around the back of his neck. 'You need to talk about it?' He taunted. 

She tried to catch her breath but for some reason her heart was booming. 

'You get distracted like that and you're dead.'

She stood, brushing the dust from her thighs. 'You're...' She began, only to shake her head and clear her throat. 

He tilted his head and the bones in his neck gave a sickening click, a hangover from Kaneki's thorough beating. 'I'm?' He didn't look angry, actually vaguley amused. 

'You're going easy on me.' She put her hand to her chest where her heart still thundered away. 'Why?'

'No I'm not.' He swooped to pick up his jacket, another bone popped in his shoulder. 

'Yes you are.' To her own ears she sounded like a child, sullen and whiny and she was surprised when he didn't look at her as if she were one. 

Instead he looked thoughtful, standing there with one arm in his hoodie. He clicked his jaw and let out a huffed breath. 'Would you believe me...' He clicked his tongue. 'I'm really not, Hinami.' His hair fell across one eye. 

She remembered to breath. 

He let his jacket drop back to the floor. 'Did you think I was beating you to a pulp for fun?' 

He closed the distance, face sharp as he scrutinised her's. She resisted the urge to step backwards. Under his hair his eyes were ringed in black, impossibly dark and fixed on hers. 

Beautiful actually. They were fucking beautiful. He was, he was breathtaking, and it could be stockholm syndrome and it could be some inherent need for the weak to latch on to someone strong but trying not to acknowledge it was exhausting. 

'Do I make you sick?' He asked, his breath light against her cheek. 

She tried to think about it. She tried to say it. 

She shook her head.

'Why not?' His lip quirked up in to a slight smile. 

She blinked. 

His lips didn't feel at all like she'd thought they would. They were warm and too hard against her own, and somehow overwhelming. Her fingers twitched and she hoped, genuinely somehow hoped, that his hand would be there. His lips parted, their fingertips brushed. She leant forward and his right hand wound around the back of her neck. 

'What are you doing?' He whispered, his nose brushing against hers. 

She squeezed the fingers of his left hand, though her mind was screeching at her to push him away.

He brought his lips to hers, but this time they were soft even if his fingertips were digging in to the nape of her neck. His tongue pushed agaist hers, forceful and demanding, and she let his hand drop in favour of fisting her own in his shirt. His thumb ran down the side of her neck, she gasped and just like that he was gone, scooping his jacket up from the ground and heading for the exit. 

* * *

He lifted his head from the pillow, his palm still flat against his stomach where she had impaled him only a few days earlier. 'Yes?' His voice held it's usual cadence, uninterested, mildly irritated, but the intrigue showed in his eyes since his hair was clipped out of the way. 

She dropped the bag of body parts on the bedside table and stepped back. 

'You went shopping?' He sat up, looking over her simple ensemble of a belted white blouse and pencil skirt. 'You look like a fucking secretary.'

She sighed, though she looked strangely relieved. 'I'm trying to look less like a child.' She admitted. 

'Why?' He scoffed as he pushed himself up on his elbows. 'You are a child.'

'Then so are you.' She snapped back, half expecting him to get angry once she did.

Instead Hinami watched as he turned on to his side, hand supporting his head in a vague parody of a seduction technique. His T shirt had rode up and she could see his pale skin pulled taut over the muscles of his stomach and the sharp bones of his hip.  If it was a parody his expression was completely wasted on it. He watched her intensely, eyes catching on every fold in her blouse where it caught on the curve of her body. 

When she hadn't fled from his gaze he let his eyes rest on hers. 'We could if you want.' He said in a tone that made it clear her answer didn't impact him in the slightest.

'Could what?' She blushed, and his smirk in response was downright devilish. 'Oh!'

'I don't suppose you've ever had the chance before.' He sat up, his head eye level with her chest.

She stepped back. 'No! Of course not!' For some reason she wanted to scream. 'With you?'

'With me.' 

'No!' She squeaked. 

He nodded, forehead wrinkling.

'I...' Her voice dropped down to a whisper as she looked down to her feet. 'You kissed me...'

'You kissed me back.' He growled, and the slightest tinge of pink settled on his cheeks. 'S'the only reason I asked.'

'Why'd you kiss me?' She asked, voice a tad more hopeful than she had intended.

He shrugged a shoulder, any colour on his face receding. 'I won't again.'

She wanted to hit him. 'But you already have.'

'I've done a lot of meaningless things Hinami. Are you going to make me justify every single one?'

She pinched the bridge of her nose, scrunching up her eyes. 

'You did like it then?'

'Shut up.' She shook. 

He was on his feet before she could turn and leave, hands pushing in to the small of her back, pressing her against him. She let her forehead drop against his sternum, hands braced against his elbows to hold him still.

'Do you want me to let you go?' He asked, and for a wonder he didn't sound like he was teasing her. 

His grip on her loosened but her hands only wound tighter around his biceps. She lifted her head, eyes pink with the threat of tears, and pressed her lips to his chin. 'Don't touch me anymore.' She hissed against his skin and stepped back, watching as a smile spread across his mouth. 

With deft fingers he reached up and pulled the clip free from his hair, half obscuring his eyes. 'Why would I want to?' He sneered, but it did not change the fact that once she had gone he put his fist through the brittle wall and the weakened bones of his knuckles didn't heal until the next day.

* * *

'Happy birthday, Hinami.' She thought as she drifted off, safely cradled in his arms even if he made her skin crawl. 'Happy happy birthday.'

He'd told her to take out four men, four investigators. 'Not just wound, you fucking kill them.' She wondered if he would have insisted if he'd known it was her birthday, but more than likely he would have given her the bigger group as an ill fitting gift. She hated him.

'I told you to kill them.' His voice broke through the darkness, and as she blinked her eyes open she could make out the mask. His smell was so strong, he was all sweat and blood - not all of it his - and she liked it here, with sleep weighing down her brain. 

'Next time.' She mumbled, turning her head in to the crook of his neck. 'I'll kill them for you.'

Ayato looked down, unable to keep from gritting his teeth. She was more than capable of killing them, she'd incapacitated them quickly enough but she hadn't finished them and now here she was, a bloody mess in his arms. Her eyes flitted open and her glassy honey colour met his from beneath her lashes. 

'I'll kill em all.' She sighed against the dark fabric of his shirt. 

He thought about dropping her but decided against it, instead lowering her carefully down on to her bed. The wounds were healed, just creamy skin shone through the tears in the fabric of her shirt. Just in case he pressed with his fingertips until, satisfied she was all healed, he stood, hands hanging at his sides. 'You could have died.' He grunted. 'You going to waste all that time I spent training you like that?'

'Sh.' She put a hand to her forehead. 'Too loud Ayato-kun.'

'You aren't drunk Hinami! You lost blood. You almost died!'

'You don't...' She tried to sit up but he found himself with a hand pushed against her shoulder. She huffed as her head hit the pillow. 'You don't really care though.' She watched as his eyes narrowed, and before she could stop she was twisting a lock of hair around one of her fingers. 'You're so pretty but you're rotten inside.'

His knees buckled and she sat up, smiling stupidly a few inches from him. 'Hina...' 

'It's my birthday.' She announced, eyebrows furrowed. 'I didn't feel like killing people on my birthday.'

Even to his own ears his voice sounded desperate. 'Your fucking birthday? If I hadn't killed them you'd be dead!'

Her eyes seemed to clear. 'Do you care?'

He wanted to strangle her but thought better of it, turning instead away from her. He was only half surprised when her fingers caught his and she pressed herself against his back, breath warm on the nape of her neck. 'Oi, do you?'

He spun with a growl, hands digging in to the flesh of her hips, shocking her eyes wide. She had the good sense to look a little scared as he stared down at her. 'I don't give a fuck..' He tightened his grip and she struck him hard across the cheek.

He raised his hand on impulse but her eyes widening, her lips parting, her heat so close, something stilled his hand. When she'd first been given to him he'd hit her too hard, he'd done it for a few weeks, beaten her black and blue, thought she'd stop and run home. She hadn't, she'd stayed and now she was strong enough to take it, and at some point all the anger had gone,  or maybe he'd stopped thinking like a brat and she didn't look quite like one anymore...

'Are you going to hit me?' She asked defiantly raising her chin.

He shook his head. 'Are you going to listen to me?' 

'If you don't hit me.' She sighed, eyes growing hazy. 'Stupid to love someone if they hate you.'

'To...' To what? He blinked.

'I'm tired.' She grumbled, and then she fell forward and he only just managed to catch her, he was still so shocked.

'Hey. Shitty Hinami.' He grumbled in to her hair, slight panic in his otherwise low voice. 'If you fucking die...' He whined, lowering her back and dashing out to get some human trimmings from the kitchen. 

Hinami woke to the unfamiliar weight of someone sprawled across her legs. He had obviously been sitting in the old arm chair she usually sat in when she read in the lounge, and now he was lying across her, his backside still on the sunflower cushion she had plumped so many times. He was facing away from her by some miracle, though his dark tresses were falling over his eyes anyway and that only meant she was suddenly very aware that her feet were on display. She thought she remembered eating, and her stomach was full so the hazy dream of him feeding her couldn't be too far from the truth. In the low light she could see his shoulder rise and fall with his heavy breaths, and when her hand (of its own volition) came to rest on the soft blue curls at the back of his head it occurred to her that she could feel his heartbeat echo through her bones. 

He stopped breathing. 

Hinami considered taking her hand back, considered bolting out of the bed and down the corridor, down the stairs, out in to the street, and so on until Tokyo and this disfunctional heart throb were distant memories, but her fingers were combing through his hair without a care in the world. His hair was soft and thick, she wondered how much care he put in to it, since she'd only ever seen him with it hanging there or clipped up out of his way. Did he care how nice it was? Did he like having it played with? She'd always loved it when someone touched hers, somehow it made her feel...

He sat up, sleep addled eyes shining like beacons in the dark. ''nami...' He Whispered. 'I fell asleep?'

'Hm.' She looked down at her palm in the darkness, thought about where it had just been. 

'How do you feel?' He grunted, reaching up to ruffle his own hair. 

She shrugged. Something in her stomach twisted, reminded her that once upon a time he had stood over her bed, spoken softly, let her cry against his chest. 'Ayato...' She swallowed, and the silence between them grew thick.

He was the first to break it with the soft shush if rustling sheets as he moved an arm. 'I should leave you.' He cleared his throat. 'You're still in your clothes.'

'Uh...' She muttered gracelessly. 'Wait...'

'Don't do that again.'

'I won't,' she wasn't entirely sure what she had done, 'but wait.' Her fingers enclosed on the bottom of his T-shirt though if he pulled she'd hardly hold him with her fingertips. This wasn't as daunting in the darkness, she decided. 'Why are you like that sometimes?'

His response was short and sharp. 'Like what?'

She found herself biting down on her bottom lip as the silence stretched out. 

He sighed, hand running through his hair. 'Rotten inside?' He laughed, a single dry chuckle.

'The opposite.' She let her fingers fall free of the fabric. It occurred to her that this could be a dream, that the air was too crisp, the Ayato above her too soft. 'I get these little glimpses of you...'

'Hinami...' 

'And they make me want to believe that everything you've done... That you've changed.'

She could practically hear the rush of blood to her cheeks and ears, so loud was it that she missed his response at first, or at least the meaning. The sound had registered, then his hand had found her tear stained cheek and with his soft touch came comprehension. 

'I won't hurt you, alright.' 

She pulled him so that he was half on the bed, shuffling until she was under the duvet before pulling him the rest of the way to lie next to her. He shuffled under the blankets too, careful to keep his body away from her. They faced eachother, breaths slowly evening out as they settled in to the mattress and the silence.

* * *

She awoke to the slight sepia of a summer morning spilling through the curtains and a soft open mouthed snore sounding just behind her ear. His knees were tucked against hers, his arm was holding her tight to his chest and everything was too hot, too stiff. She felt grungy, still wrapped in the clothes they'd gone out to fight in. As she tried to pull away he whispered a moan, pulling her harder against him, and she felt it. 

Her heart gave a painfully loud thump as she realised what _it_ was, and through his jeans, her skirt, it was still so hard against her backside. 

Still asleep his grip tightened and he pushed his hips against her.

'Ayato-kun!' She squealed. 

He stilled, and from the way his breath echoed steady in her ear, the gentle release of her stomach and hip, she could tell he had woken. All the same, his hands didn't leave her, and she found herself turning to look over her shoulder at his clouded eyes and deciding she didn't want them to. Her hand slid over his, holding it to her stomach as she turned towards him, trying to read his sleep addled expression. 

In an instant he had her under him, his knees rating between her own as he looked her over, eyes scanning the ruined shirt, the stained skirt, and finally the flushed face of the female ghoul. He let one hand drop to rest on her hip and smiled dumbly as her own fisted in to the mattress at her sides. His other hand ran down the hollow of her neck, tracing the ridge of her collarbone, pushing the fabric of her blouse aside so that he could lean forward and press his tongue against the salty sweet skin. 

She jolted and he found himself running his fingers through the soft locks of brown hair as he kissed and licked and sucked on her skin, his other hand still firm at her hip even as she writhed beneath him. He wanted to stop and say something, or throw off the stifling duvet, but the spell the silence wove would be broken, they'd stop, they'd part. He let his weight press more firmly against her pelvis and she moaned, even as she bit her lip. Beneath the warmth of his mouth her pulse danced. 

The shirt was ruined, he had half a mind to tear it from her, to rip it to shreds, but his own words rang heavy in his ears, a promise that made him feel like a child but at the same time like so much more. 'I won't hurt you.' He ran his hand up her side and she lifted her knees until they pressed against his hips. His lips found hers, and they were soft, wet, bitten. She sighed against his mouth, tongue pushing against his softly, and he caught her bottom lip between his teeth, tugging it gently before letting it slip away.

She pushed him back so that he was kneeling. _'That was it_.' He thought, closing his eyes and huffing out a breath. ' _You've lost her.'_

Hinami sat up, eyes half lidded, lips swollen and pink. Without a word she took the hem of her skirt in her shaking hands, watching him carefully as she slid the fabric up over her thighs.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.

Her fingers trembled but she managed to shimmy so the pink dotted pants slid over the curve of her backside, then down to the crook of her knees. She knew her face must be an unflattering shade of Crimson, and every second he didn't move the heat grew worse. Had she misjudged him, did he want something else? 

His eyes roamed down, and when he licked his lips she shivered. 

She lay back, head against the pillow, fighting the urge to force her thighs together or push down her skirt. He followed her, the denim at his hips rubbing against the soft skin of her thighs as he pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. He pulled back for a moment to fix his eyes on her, and when she held his gaze he reached down to pop the button of his jeans, the zip obnoxiously loud as he yanked it down. She huffed a soft little laugh through her nose and his let his lips drop to her brow, fighting back a nervous chuckle. 

Her knees pressed firmer against him and he brought his lips to hers again, aiming to distract as he lazily pressed his tongue against hers, and captured her bottom lip again. Her gasp when his fingers finally touched her made him smirk against her mouth. He traced her a few times, up and down, and satisfied that she wasn't hating this, that she was as aroused as he was, he pulled his jeans down past his hips and freed himself. 

She looked down, curiosity and nerves fighting to control her expression as she watched his hand move over _it_. Against her backside it had felt hard but now it was bigger, and when he pressed it against her she felt the heat sear her skin. For some reason he had pulled the duvet over them, obscured it before she could watch and she felt robbed and relieved at the same time. His left hand rested beside her head as the right parted her, helped him position himself. 

 _'What the fuck are we doing_?' He wondered as he watched her screw her eyes shut and turn her head to the pillow. He thought about protection, about the talk his parents had never given him because they were both dead, and about the way she had spoken to him the night before, about her calling him rotten. Of all his thoughts the strongest was the fact that he'd never thought this would happen, and how impossible his heart felt now that it had.

She opened her eyes, though she didn't turn her face to him, and with her gaze turned back on him he pushed against her, squaring his jaw as he began to slide in. Her lips parted in a silent cry as he felt her whole body go rigid and he stopped, awkwardly balancing on his one arm while the other stroked the soft skin of her hip. He pressed a little more, felt a little more, and watched as she brought her hand to her mouth, tears building along her eyelashes. With his hand he pulled her against him and she obeyed, raising her hips despite the obvious discomfort. 

With a grunt he pulled again but this time he pushed himself in completely, holding himself over her with a trembling arm. Her cry slipped through her fingers, and a tear ran from the corner of her eye but she didn't look wounded as she turned her head to him. She didn't look sad. 

His fingers brushed her bangs back from her clammy forehead and he found that his lips were on her flushed skin before he'd thought to do it. His hips rocked against her, but she only seemed to tighten around him, drawing him in further. Her legs slid higher on his hips and she began to move against him, not big movements, but little jolt's and arches that made the horrible black feeling in his stomach shrink. 

He came with a hiss in to the crook of her neck, caught of guard by her lips at his ear. 

Beneath him she caught her breath, adjusting to the strange warmth he had left deep in her belly. When he pulled out she still felt him hard and hot between her legs, felt the sting he had left behind. She winced as she shifted so that he could fall beside her. His hand was surprisingly soft as he ran it across her lower stomach, burning her through the thin fabric. 

She pushed a hand between her legs before bringing it up to the light, watching the sunlight dance on her bloody fingertips. He kissed her neck, held her a little tighter but not enough to hurt, and she knew that if he asked she'd do it again.

* * *

She was strong. Stronger than him perhaps if you counted her skills. Even for a ghoul her senses were immense, and he no longer needed to hold back during training. She still hadn't killed, but the arguments about it had grown stale. She could protect herself well enough that he didn't mind her mercy, and killing someone for her always made him feel invincible. 

He watched from his spot on the couch as her honey brown eyes scanned the pages of a book. Her mouth was twisted up in distaste and her cheeks were beginning to glow pink. For someone so strong she was so delicate. 

'Oi, Hinami.'

She looked up too quickly, shutting the book like a child caught with his hand on the last piece of cake.

'Are you reading porn?' 

She frowned. 'Ayato-kun...' 

'It looks like porn.'

'It's a book.' 

'A porn...' 

She smiled begrudgingly. 'I need to keep myself entertained.' She teased. 

He yawned, resting back against the sofa cushions. 'What is it?'

She looked down at the book in her hands. 'A gift from my brother.'

'Oh.' He blinked up at the ceiling. 'It was funnier when it was porn.'

She sighed, putting the book down beside her and leaning across the coffee table where their empty cups still sat. 'Ayato-kun, are you alright?'

He jolted. He hadn't expected her to ask. 'You.' He swallowed, every word difficult to form, even if she was the only one to hear it. 'You've been sad ever since.'

'What do you expect?' She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. 'If the CCG had Touka...'

'They wouldn't get Touka.' He snarled. 

Hinami stiffened, mouth drawn in to a thin straight line. 'If you found out she was...'

'Shut up.' He sat up, hair as wild as his eyes.

She gave him a pitying look. 'Ayato...'

'I wouldn't care...'

'What if they had me?' 

He looked at her as if she'd just said the five most taboo words on the planet. His lips twitched. 

'What if they took me and turned me in to a weapon?'

Between the sheets he could think, shadows painting patterns in black on his ceiling as his mind ran over it all. 'I'd come and get you.' He answered aloud to the darkness, wondering if she heard him a few rooms away. 'I'd come and fucking get you.'

His door creaked open not a minute later, and the female ghoul slipped in, tiptoeing across to his bed before climbing in to lie draped across his chest. 'I know you would.' She kissed his heated skin. 

'I'd get her too.' 

'I know.' She wiggled closer. 

'If they touched you...' He stopped himself, because if anyone had touched her the way he himself had in the past he would tear out their lungs. 

'I know.' She pressed her lips to his neck and he caught her by the shoulders, pulling her until she was straddling his lap. His fingers plucked at the buttons of her pyjama top as he kissed his way down between her breasts, tongue trailing over her goose fleshed skin. 

Her fingers wound through his hair, nails scratching at his scalp, then down to his neck. She whined as he pulled away, but he only swung off his own shirt before pulling her with him down in to the sheets. 

**Author's Note:**

> His bones must click after that right? My wrist clicks because I fell off a swing when I was nine, so if he's click free after Kaneki half killed him...
> 
> I tried to catch mistakes but if you see any let me know.


End file.
